Unspoken Betrayal
by julie xoxo
Summary: A man and woman are in love, but a friend intervenes their relationship. This story will have broken hearts, passion, tears, and a little piece of hell.


I opened the door to a cool breeze whipping across my face. My hands immediately went towards the bottom of my dress to prevent it from flying up. My eyes searched for the familiar navy Ford truck waiting to take me away from this hellhole. My heels clicked as I walked towards the car with my friend following quietly. I opened the door, and both of us slid in.

The conversation in the car was blunt. My dad asked how the party went. I lied and said it was fun. He asked how my friend was doing, and he said fine. It ended then. He leaned his head against the window, his eyes glassy from the reflection. Or was it tears? I didn't care, anyway. I could care less about his feelings right now. He made a night to never be forgotten. I wish it was in a good way.

I glance towards my friend. He has pointy horns with cherry skin, and his eyes are the color of roses.. The devil takes a deep breath next to me. The blazing fire escapes his mouth, and fades away. I blink. It's only his cool breath resting in the air.

He offered to walk home before my dad pulled up, but I refused to let him walk by himself. It was past ten o'clock, and the town was not safe at night. I nearly had to drag him to the car to get him to come. Believe me; I did not like it any more than he did.

We pulled up to his brick condo. Since there was no driveway, we parked on the opposite side of the street.

"Thank you for the ride," the devil said, breathing fire on the door which crumbled to ashes. His tails wraps around my finger, as if to lure me into his kingdom.

At least that's what I thought I saw. He simply opened the door and shut it, quickly crossing the street into his house. I shiver and shake the thought away.

I shifted to the front seat where my dad was. The ride home was silent, and I could tell my dad could sense my mood. He glanced over at me a couple of times, but never said a word. I was relieved when he didn't start a conversation. I did not want to talk tonight.

Once we got home, I went straight to my bedroom. The brightness blinded me as I switched the light on. My eyes were heavy and were not in the mood for bright lights. I slipped off my black dress and silver heels, and threw on a pair of sweatpants and an old tattered sweatshirt. I went to the bathroom and looked at my face. My makeup was smudged all over my face. My black eyeliner smeared down to my heavy navy bags. There were mascara boogers piling up at the corners of my eyes. The glitter eye shadow I put on my lids sparkled. I brushed it gently. It was the only part of my face that looked relatively happy.

I turned on the faucet and drenched my face in the warm water spewing out of the cap. It felt nice against my cool skin from the winter air. I don't bother to brush my teeth or use oil to take off my makeup. I simply take off my contacts and crawl into bed.

I lay in my bed for hours, trying to forget what happened tonight. I didn't even notice that my face was covered with tears and I was hysterically crying. I grab a t-shirt from my drawer and blow my nose in it. It was my favorite purple Beatles t-shirt, which was know ruined. I threw it to the ground hard, and pulled the blankets over my head. I can't stop crying. Every drop screamed betrayal as it slid down my cheek towards its death. I did feel betrayed. I never knew emotions could be this drastic.

It killed me to think of that girl who will now share memories with him. It made me cry more to think that girl will now taste his sweet lips against hers. I never want to taste his sweet sin again. This girl was my best friend, and she stabbed our friendship in the back, letting the blade drip with blood.

A couple of minutes later, I stopped crying. A passion flowed through my body. The kind that you would be surprised would flow through your body if you were upset. It was luminous with speed. It inched towards my eyes which dried up my tears. This passion gave me memories. The memories were bright filled with love. He was in it. He was smiling and stroking my face. His chest was bare, and I was kissing his perfectly sculpted breast. My eyes twinkled in the memory, with my face spilling my secret of my love towards him. I have never loved something so much. I rested my head on his chest, feeling his fast heart beat. I wondered that day if he was nervous of what we were doing. Or was his heart telling him something? I'll never know. I can't let these emotions cloud my judgment. What he did will always be resting in my broken heart, and he can't do anything about it, no matter how bad he feels.

He put a scar over my heart that night. It was rugged and fierce and sensitive. I realized that the scar meant I fought off the devil. I was stronger than whoever it was that tried to hurt me. I survived hell.


End file.
